


High Way to Hell drabbles

by acareeroutofrobbingbanks



Series: The High Way to Hell [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Technically Canon, if you care, just drabbles, stuff i can't get out of my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acareeroutofrobbingbanks/pseuds/acareeroutofrobbingbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extra stories that you may not want or need, but if you're interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joe gets a Weapon

“That is so cool.” Patrick said, for possibly the thousandth time. His weird worship of Joe’s new toy was starting to make Pete kind of uncomfortable.

Joe proudly held in his open palm a shiny pistol, with a silver barrel and a curved wooden handle covered in swirling silver filigree, and the initials JMT carved into the center of the barrel.

“A Queen Anne pistol,” he had said when he first brought it back. “Hasn’t been made since the year 1800, flintlock. It was in my grandma’s attic, she doesn’t know whose it was, so it’s mine, now.”

To say that the gun was pretty, Pete had to admit, was an understatement. Joe brought it back with him after his holiday celebrations with his family, and now, new year’s eve, he had finally got it into good enough condition and found the parts to fire it off.

“Think we’ll get the deposit back on this place if we shoot it off in the apartment?” he asked with a smirk.

“Honestly, I don’t think you should use a gun within Chicago city limits if you aren’t prepared to reload it for a fight.” Pete said, giving Joe and Patrick a look of mild disapproval.

“Aw, chill out, dude.” Joe laughed. “These things are supposed to be used for extreme close quarters, like a bayonet or something. Look, I don’t even think it’ll make it from one side of the apartment to the other.” he waved the hand he held the gun in carelessly, and it went off suddenly, a flash from the pan of the pistol lighting up the room as they heard the boom come from the gun, directed right at Pete.

Pete ducked, then looked up at Joe with wide and furious eyes. Joe looked at the gun with an expression of mild surprise. Patrick started laughing, of all things, in the corner.

“Huh, they said there was a heavy danger of misfiring with flintlock.” Joe said with a shrug. “That’s inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” Pete’s voice was a higher squeak than usual. “You nearly shot me in the head!” Joe snorted at him. Patrick was still laughing.

“There wasn’t even a bullet in it.” he said.

“That’s beside the point.” Pete said, trying to remain dignified. “When I have to be the adult in the room-”

“Yeah, yeah, hell’ll probably freeze over.” Joe agreed. “But look, that was just an accident, and I’ll be more careful when I have a bullet in it.”

“Gee, thanks.” said Pete sarcastically. He skulked back into his room, texting Jeanae all the time. She was insisting, as she often did, that he didn’t spend enough time with her. As if he wouldn’t drive out there everyday if he could. And now, of course, he had to explain to her that they were leaving the state to shoot a video. She was going to be pissed, although, not as Pissed as Pete was when he heard another bang and both Patrick and Joe’s screams that quickly turned to hysterical laughter.

“What?” he yelled, sticking his head out of the door. Patrick had fallen to the floor, clutching his sides, and Joe had collapsed on the couch, covering his eyes with his arm, and holding a smoking gun. He gestured to the wall, and Pete looked over, his heart sinking.

“You shot a hole through the wall?” he asked, his voice small.

“I- I-” Patrick couldn’t stop laughing, though Pete couldn’t see anything remotely funny about the situation. “I don’t think we’re getting the security deposit back.” Joe’s cackling got louder, and Pete raised his eyes skyward, mentally screaming a prayer to keep his sanity.

“Look, it didn’t even go all the way through!” Joe snorted. “It stopped, like, halfway!”

“Cause you shot it from across the room, dickhead!” Patrick yelled back.

Pete opened his mouth and took in a deep breath like he was going to scream at them, then suddenly turned on his heels, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the apartment. It sounded like Patrick said something as he left, but Pete didn’t notice.

It felt like his head was spinning as he stamped his way down the street. It was freezing out, which was to be expected from Chicago this time of year, but he didn’t feel very cold. He shucked his jacket off after a few minutes, holding it in his arms as he walked because his skin felt hot and prickly under the streetlights. It was only mid afternoon, but it may as well have been nighttime.

Sometimes, if it was a really good day, Pete really liked being a fairy. He liked looking at people’s auras, seeing them shift and change and glow in the night like he lived in a firework. But when the days were bad, and he felt more like a forest fire than a candle, they burned too bright, searing into his eyes in a rainbow of colors that mocked the way his head felt like it was splitting in half. Everyone was angry, nervous reds, and his fingers twitched as he stormed past them.

Pete had nearly walked all the way down to the section of town where the brick buildings with artsy posters gave way into steely gray skyscrapers when his phone buzzed angrily in his pocket.

“Dude, come back.” Patrick said, his voice too loud and crackly on the line, making Pete wince and pull the phone away from his ear. “Joe’s sorry he shot the apartment.” Pete could hear Joe yell “No I’m not!” in the background, but he felt a half smile growing on his face anyway.

“I’ll be back soon.” he sighed, hanging up without prelude.

 


	2. "We've been able to keep him at peace with the blend I've created..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy's thirsty.

"So then he says, 'Joe, you're such a dog!' And he says, yeah, I really am!" Pete literally slapped his knees while he laughed, loud and braying and showing all his teeth and _driving Andy up the fucking wall._

"Will you shut up?" Andy asked in a tight, hissing voice. Pete turned to him, eyebrows shooting up in confusion.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin." he said mildly.

"Very fucking funny." Andy said. He began rubbing circles on his temples, his mouth drawn back into a grimace. It really wasn't so bad with Pete, but he could smell Patrick in the backseat, he could hear him breathing.

And it wasn't as though Andy was gonna mention it to Patrick. He knew it was creepy. He knew he had fucked up with the one feeding he had done. But god, he smelled incredible, and Andy knew what he tasted like now. Which was making the scent of him a hell of a lot worse, and doing nothing for his headache.

Patrick was the only thing since Andy had converted to veganism that he didn't qualify as vegan. When he was very young, before he could remember, his mom had taken blood from strangers in a panic to feed herself and her son, but things had changed since then. Up in Wisconsin they had the donated AB blood that was about to expire. Down in Chicago,  Andy had found a word of mouth vampire wannabe cult that fed off of each other all the time, and he could simply tell them the truth and they would let him feed. Consensually given, that was the point. It wasn't as though animals consented to being slaughtered.

Being on the road was harder. He could go long periods of time, but he was nearly starving when he had fed off of Patrick, so it seemed that over two months was a hard limit.

It hadn't been two months. But he was really, really thirsty.

"What's wrong?" Pete asked him, sounding more concerned now. But Joe and Patrick were both awake, and it was... Embarrassing. So Andy shook his head and kept rubbing circles on his temples and tried not to hear Patrick's heartbeat behind his head.

"Did you know fairies can tell when people are lying?" Pete asked, and damn him for being the least likely person to let something go.

"Just let it go." Andy said. And Pete nodded. Not that Andy expected for a minute that he would let it go.

Sure enough, when Joe was filling up the tank and Patrick was buying junk food from the gas station, Pete pulled Andy aside, pushing him up against the cinder block wall furthest from where the car was parked.

"You're thirsty?" he asked. Andy cringed.

"Don't mention it." he said, and Pete rolled his eyes, bouncing up on the balls of his feet and poking Andy in the chest.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Pete said. "Are you seriously embarrassed about a matter of survival?"

"This particular matter of survival, yes!" Andy said. "And besides, I don't want to make them feel uncomfortable." It really wasn't necessary to say who he didn't want to make feel uncomfortable. Pete's mouth twisted up in sympathy.

"Are you gonna need to drink something soon?" he asked.

"I can wait." Andy said, but his stomach churned at the thought.

"No, I have an idea." Pete said, his eyes lighting up. "You can't store blood, right?"

"Not well." Andy admitted.

"Okay. How much do you know about vampires?" Pete asked. Andy stared at him with a blank, derisive look.

“How much do you know about your need for blood?” Pete tried again.

“I need to drink at minimum a pint of blood every month and a half or so, but it’s better to feed every week or so,” he said.

“All right,” Pete said. “Do you know why vampires drink blood?”

“Is this a test?” Andy asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. Pete could be weird, but these shiny eyed questions were outside his realm of normal.

“No, look, do you have a biological need for blood, or is it a magic thing?” Pete asked.

“How the hell should I know?” Andy asked, his temper flaring up again. Pete held his hands out in front of him, and Joe yelled for them to hurry up while he leaned on the horn.

“I’ll tell you soon.” Pete said, flashing him a wink and a grin before they went back to the van.

Andy stopped thinking about it after a couple of days. Pete dragged them into creepy off-the-wall occult and new age shops no more often than usual, but he did pull Patrick aside sometimes to talk to him. Patrick looked a little uncomfortable, but eventually nodded.

After a trip inside of one particularly dimly lit and patchouli smelling store, Pete buried himself deep in a book for the rest of the afternoon and evening, only temporarily resurfacing to play the show.

The next morning, Pete pulled Andy and Patrick aside, Patrick smiling reassuringly at Andy and Pete grinning wide and sparkling with pride, also holding one hand behind his back.

“Andy, have you ever heard of sympathetic magic?” Pete asked.

“What are you talking about?” Andy asked tiredly. His eyes had dark circles around them, and the scent of Patrick’s blood under his skin was making his head reel.

“Sympathetic magic, or magical congruency,” Pete smiled proudly as he explained. “Is replacing one thing with another in witchcraft. Like voodoo dolls in the place of people, right?” he said.

“Sure.” Andy sighed, hoping he could get this over with and head back to sleep.

“So I was thinking, probably since there are psychic vampires as well as sanguine vamps like you,-”

“Psychic vampires are just bullshit that Hot Topic junkies come up with.” Andy said flatly. Pete’s grin faltered just a bit.

“As a fairy that very much deals with psychic energy, I assure you, they aren’t.” he said. “Anyway, as I was saying, maybe it’s not so much blood as it is life energy, so the individual chemical components of blood wouldn’t do much for you in food, where you already get iron and sulfur.”

“Fair enough.” Andy said. “Where are you going with this?”

“It’s not blood itself, or you wouldn’t need blood, or could stand being vegan,” Pete said, and Andy could see Patrick rolling his eyes wearily at the well rehearsed speech as well. “It’s the life energy.” He paused dramatically, but seeing that Andy wasn’t going to react, he sighed, the smile sliding a bit.

“Do you want me to skip the explanation?” he asked.

“Kinda.” Andy said. Pete sighed, and handed him a tall glass filled with scarlet fluid that he had held behind him through the conversation. The thick red liquid sloshed with Pete’s movement, staining the sides of the glass with heavy, pulp-y looking juice.

“What is that?” Andy gasped, sounding sort of like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“If you the short story, let’s call it Patrick blood.” Pete said smugly. Andy turned, betrayal plain on his face to Patrick.

“You did not-!” he began, his voice rising as he puffed out his chest, but Patrick turned his head to the side with a look of boredom, holding out his left hand, where there was a tiny bandage on his thumb.

“I wouldn’t even need the band-aid if Pete weren’t so clumsy.” Patrick said, and even he sounded a little proud. Now all Andy could feel was confusion.

“I- I don’t-”he started again, and Pete handed the glass out to him, and christ, it smelled like Patrick’s blood, and Andy yanked it away so fast that a bit sloshed out of the side, running down the glass and over his fingers. He heard Pete mutter: “I told you he was thirsty”, as he drained the glass, letting whatever it was slide down his throat.

It wasn’t as hot as blood, but it had obviously been warmed up. The consistency was really wrong, way too thick and almost slimy, but it tasted exactly like blood. He finished in seconds.

“Okay,” he was breathing heavily, and his eyelids lowered slightly in a sleepy contentedness. “What was that?”

“Patrick blood.” Pete said again, and both he and Patrick were grinning hugely. “Brought to you by the power of new age magic and tomato juice.”

“What?” Andy asked, shock coloring his features.

“Tomato juice, a little extra salt, sixty seconds in the microwave, and one drop of my blood.” Patrick said.

“With a little magical help from yours truly.” Pete interjected.

“That’s brilliant.” Andy said. “You’re brilliant.”

“No need to sound so surprised.” Pete said, still smiling. “Think that might help on the road?”

“Definitely.” Andy agreed. “You’d make a great vampire.”

“Please don’t tempt the fates.” Patrick said, deadpan. “I don’t think I could deal with Pete coming after my neck anymore than he already does.”

And Andy had to laugh, as he realized that he had incredible friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooh my gosh you guys, thank you so much for your support with this au! I have so much fun writing this and I guess all the stuff in here is just what I'm dying to tell you but can't fit into the story, so thanks for reading! Comments give me life, and your kind words totally get me working faster (thought still not fast enough) Sorry if this note kinda rambles, but thanks for reading!


	3. Scar Tissue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick can be curious sometimes.

“Dude!” Patrick gasped, grabbing Andy’s wrist, “What is this?”

Andy looked down, to see Patrick staring at the long cut on his arm left over from the van accident.

“I got cut.” Andy said. “When the van shattered, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Patrick stared at his arm, head cocked. “But… it left a scar?”

Andy gave Patrick a strange look, not understanding.

“You can scar?” Patrick asked. Andy remained quiet for a moment.

“Patrick,” he sighed. “You know tattoos are basically scar tissue, right?”

“Oh.” Patrick said.

“Can all vampires scar?” Patrick asked.

“You know, I’ve only met three vampires other than my mom, and you were there,” Andy said.

“Yeah, but…” Patrick trailed off.

“Vampires shouldn’t scar,” Patrick announced one day, and Andy nearly fell off the couch,

“Jesus fuck, Patrick!” he gasped, shaking his head.

“I don’t get it, are they the undead, or what?”

“No, they’re not undead!” Andy yelled back. “It’s more like, I don’t know, like a disease?”

“So your mom, she’s not dead?” Patrick asked.

“No,” Andy said firmly. “Look, my mom got bit when she was still pregnant, but it was at the very end because she gave birth really soon after. She wasn’t able to have kids after that, and her hypothesis is that the vampire body isn’t able to support new life, but it enhances old life, which is why instead of aging, they get pretty and fit and junk. They don’t like religious iconography or the sun, and apparently you can kill them with a stake through the heart.”

Patrick stared in wide eyed attention, nodding occasionally.

“And that’s it.” Andy said. Patrick was silent for a moment.

“What about running water?” he asked.

“Fucking Christ.”


	4. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy finally gets a date with the socialist from Wilmette.

“Sorry I’m late!” Andy said, sliding into the booth across from Andrea, breathless. She smiled coolly at him, brushing her hair back.

“Very late,” she agreed. “I thought you said you were free the night we met,” she chided him, but she was still smiling, teasing him.

“I got a little, ah, tied up.” Andy cringed at the pun, even though she couldn’t possibly know that it was one.

“I get it,” she said, giving him a look like she meant it. They met at a restaurant in Chicago, once he finally got to text her as he promised. Andrea told Andy that she actually lived in Chicago, but her friends had told her she had to see the band, so she hopped a bus to Wilmette, just to see them.

“Was it worth it?” he had asked her then. She had grabbed his hand, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.

“Yeah,” she said, “yeah it was worth it.”

They had both ordered smoothies, and Andy prepared himself for all the first date ordeals of getting to know someone. A tedious process, but it wasn’t so bad with Andrea. They seemed to have everything in common, and Andrea appeared just as shocked as him at each turn.

“I’m not really vegan,” she had admitted. “I tried to be, for a few months, but I’m actually anemic, and it’s really hard for me to get iron in my diet. So I ended up not even being vegetarian, but I only buy from places I know, you know? Small farms and whatnot. God, it’s still awful, but I mean, at least they had lives, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s- understandable.” Andy said. She winced. She was distractingly pretty to him, laid back and gorgeous with her hair pulled back. Only their first date and Andy could already feel himself getting obsessed with her hair.

“I know it sounds awful,” she said, “but it’s better than some vegetarians, still drinking milk from companies that all but put their cows through Guantanamo Bay.”

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Andy said. “Look, you don’t have to justify yourself to me, it’s a personal decision.”

“I have to justify to myself,” she said, pleading. “I wanna be like you. I just can’t.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“You were talking about socialism last time we met?” she prompted him.

“Well, we can dream, right?” he said.

They talked for hours, mostly about politics. She was passionate, more so than him, twisting her hands in the air as she ranted against Bush, and the “establishment of a new monarchy under the guise of democracy”. She looked even more thrilled when he spoke, saying many of the same things, but in different ways.

“Would it sound awful if I said ‘You just get me’?” she asked, laughing.

“No,” Andy laughed in reply.

She was younger, had just turned nineteen, which, as she said, sounded like a line out of a bad porno, but it was funny.

“Girls mature faster than guys,” Andy had said.

“Cisgender girls.” Andrea corrected, and Andy felt himself falling in love. Andrea blushed and apologized, but Andy shook his head, biting back a grin.

“When can I see you again?” he asked eagerly, when she pointed out it was getting dark.

“I didn’t say I had to go home,” she said. “I mean, I probably should, but I don’t have to go… alone.” She looked up at him, eyes piercing.

“No?” he asked, hyper aware of how near she was to him.

“No,” she said, “I’ve got my own apartment, and I’m not much of one for dancing around the obvious, so would you like to spend the night?” she asked, voice heavy with intonation.

Andy nodded for a few seconds before laughing embarrassedly and saying, yes, he definitely would.

And Patrick was right the night before when he said Andy would get laid. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! to say chapter seven was well received would be putting it mildly, so thank you so so much!!! i'm still shocked and grateful every day that you guys love this story half as much as i do, because as i've said, this story is my baby. I love you guys so much and i hope you enjoyed the chapter! i know andrea might seem like a mary sue, but give her time, it'll be worth it, i promise ;)


	5. With Hearts and Legs Intact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Indianapolis incident, the boys wake up to an unpleasant surprise.

“Oh my God!” Joe whimpered. “I can’t do this, I can’t fucking do this! Oh, it’s too hard, how do girls do this?”

“Come on,” Andy said, his voice strained, his eyes squeezed shut. “We can do this, we can fucking do this!”

“It hurts!” Patrick whined.

“Oh, stop being such babies!” Pete yelled, leaning on the door frame with a smirk on his face. They all stared up at him in disbelieving awe.

“How did-” Patrick began, staring at his legs, where Pete was wearing incredibly tight black jeans.

“It’s called chafing,” Pete said, walking down the stairs with minimal wincing. “And it’s why girls wear tights.”

The rest of the band lay around the basement floor, in various states of undress, trying to put jeans on. Joe’s legs were the color of blood. Patrick’s legs WERE bleeding. Andy just looked like he had a rash, but his skin was tender to the touch.

“Wait,” Patrick began, “Chafing like-”

“Like your legs were jerking themselves off all night long,” Pete agreed with a nod. “And the reason girls don’t run in skirts.”

“You seem like you know this pretty well,” Joe muttered accusingly. Pete winked.

“Put deodorant on your inner thighs next time,” he suggested.

“You couldn’t have told us before hand?” Patrick hissed.

“And missed this?” Pete asked with a laugh. “No way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wore a skirt and remembered chafing is a thing. Sorry this is out of order, but it's a little fun I guess!


	6. Phases of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lycanthropy is SERIOUS BUSINESS.

Full moons, in all honesty, were a bit of an issue.

Because, of course, it’s pretty hard to miss the transformation. Joe was able to hide his werewolf status from his parents for exactly 27 days, 14 hours, and 34 minutes after he was bit. After this much time had lapsed, Mrs. Trohman heard her young son screaming in agonizing pain, and upon bursting into his room, discovered his bones breaking and elongating, his joints swiveling into new positions, his terrified eyes meeting hers as they took on a yellowish tinge. He had no plans of telling his parents, but some things are just difficult to not notice.

But it only took effect when the moon was out, so after the shock of the first few transformations, he found himself even able to go to school the next day. So long as he never went to sleepovers on the full moon, he was fine.

Things also changed as he grew older. The transformations either grew less painful, or he grew more used to them- he could never be sure. It was never pleasant, of course, but it didn’t cause him as much agony as it used to. It still caused him enough pain that he would usually shout when it began, but it was better. He got more control of it as well, he didn’t have to be wolfed out the entire time the moon was out, just a large portion of the night.

Despite all this, Joe’s parents were far from thrilled when he described his plans to live full time in a tiny apartment with two other boys- human boys. Joe insisted that he would be fine, that he’d visit once a month, and that they’d probably never notice.

To Joe’s knowledge, they never _did_ notice. Of course, he discovered later that Pete had, but for quite a while, they remained entirely ignorant, despite the fact that he always left to visit his parents overnight once every twenty eight days.

Once they found out, of course, things changed again.

***

“I’m going home tomorrow, okay?” Joe said, leaning back on the doorframe. Patrick started up.

“We have a show tomorrow!” he said, his forehead crinkling up. Joe rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, after the show,” he sighed, knowing he would get that prickly, wrong body feeling for the whole set.

“Why don’t you visit them later in the week?” Patrick asked, “It’ll be a pain to drive home at midnight.”

“Yeah, well, now feels like the time to go see them,” Joe said, gazing up at the ceiling and wishing desperately that this conversation could be over.

“Wait a second,” Patrick said, frowning, and looking out of the window. Joe knew, with a sudden crushing weight in his chest, that Patrick had figured it out, and he turned to go into the kitchen grabbing a drink out of the fridge and focusing very hard on opening it.

“It’s a full moon tomorrow, isn’t it!” Patrick sounded excited.

“Yes,” Joe replied tightly, focused intently on getting the top off of the bottle, while trying not to break it in his other hand.

“You always go home once a month!” Patrick crowed, understanding at last. “It’s totally a full moon thing, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, Patrick,” Joe said, finally getting the lid off, and taking a deep drink.

“You don’t have to go home, you know,” Patrick said, back to watching the TV again. Joe paused, staring at Patrick from across the room.

“I turn into a wolf,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you still, you know, aware of yourself?” Patrick asked. Joe winced.

“Mostly,” he said. “It’s, ah, hard to describe, but yeah.”

“Then why can’t you stay?” Patrick asked.

“Because I’m a wolf,” Joe thought Patrick was acting somewhat thick.

“Yeah, but,” Patrick shrugged. “As long as you don’t try to maul us, what’s the problem?”  
“It’s a pet free apartment!” Pete called from the other room, and Joe flushed pink. He hadn’t known Pete had been listening in.

“Okay, assuming he doesn’t howl or piss on the carpet,” Patrick amended, a grin spreading across his face. Joe on the other hand was not grinning, he felt like all his muscles had gotten much tighter, and as though his skin had been set on fire so as to cook him inside. He felt strangely crushed and humiliated, and he couldn’t come up with a single reason why he might feel this way.

“Thanks anyways,” Joe spat while Patrick laughed, moving to storm out of the room.

“Hey, wait-!” Patrick called after him, but Joe had shut the door.

***

“Hey, dude!” Patrick stood up when Joe walked back in, which, oh no, that couldn’t mean anything good.

“Sorry if I pissed you off the other day,” he said. “But I got you a gift to apologize for it!”

Joe knew this couldn’t be good, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see an enormous dog cage in his bedroom. He heaved a heavy sigh, and slammed the door in Patrick’s face.

***

The dog cage, much to Joe’s dismay, did not go away. Pete had the same brand of juvenile humor Patrick did, apparently, and he insisted on bringing it with them places.

“I don’t think you entirely understand the concept of werewolf size and strength.” Joe said, keeping his face blank and unamused. Andy tried, not very hard, not to laugh.

“I don’t think you entirely understand the concept of a joke,” Pete said, clapping Joe on the back.

***

The next tour was scheduled with a full moon in the middle of it, and Joe was furious.

“What am I supposed to do in fucking Ohio when I shift?” he asked angrily. Pete shrugged, his nose buried in a book.

“What were you planning on doing if we got picked up for a three month tour?” he asked.

“We’ve still got the dog cage,” Patrick said with a grin.

***

All four of the boys could fit in the back of the van, but Joe was doubtful that their sleeping arrangements would work as well with a wolf involved. Whenever he brought this up, all of them would laugh and tell him to use the cage. So, ultimately, he did.

And while many people know the story of how Joe climbed into the dog cage for a few minutes, laughing and seeing how big it was, much fewer people know the story of how he locked Patrick in it overnight, the wolf sleeping comfortably spread out in the back.

 


	7. There's a Room in a Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple bonus peterick fluffs set during Dead on Arrival, but that didn't really fit with the overall story.

“Hey,” Patrick said. Pete had pulled the heavy duvet up over his head, a universal sign, to the best of his knowledge, of not wanting to talk. He grunted, hoping it conveyed “Leave me alone” to his friend. Instead, the bed dipped as Patrick sat down next to him. Pete didn’t want to talk. He had killed a girl. Someone nice. Someone who didn’t even want to bite him, and she _disintegrated_  in front of him. It wasn’t the kind of thing he was ready to forgive himself for.

“Hey,” Patrick repeated. Pete made another small noise, pulling the cover further over his face. He couldn’t breathe anymore, but maybe Patrick would go away. No such luck. Hands made contact with Pete’s shoulders, pulling the cover down to his shoulders, and Patrick laid down, his face right in front of Pete’s.

“What?” Pete asked. He had meant to say “Leave me alone,” but Patrick looked scared and worried and pale. Patrick opened and closed his mouth a few times. His aura pulsed a sickly greenish hue.

“I’m scared,” Patrick said. Pete could see the way the words hesitated to come out, but Patrick wasn’t lying. Maybe he was just embarrassed. And Pete felt like shit. Here he was, hiding out, sulking, when Patrick was the one being offered up like a prime piece of steak. He shouldered the cover back and loosely opened his arms. Pete was just naturally touchy feely enough that Patrick didn’t have a moment of hesitation before pressing himself into Pete’s arms.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Pete promised, happily surprised to hear that he could make such a promise without his mind registering it as a lie. He must believe it.

“Feel cold,” Patrick said, quiet and close to Pete’s ear. “And kinda shaky.”

“Blood loss,” Pete said with a small grimace. “That’ll go away in an hour or so.”

“He didn’t stop,” Patrick said, his breaths coming uneven now.

“The girl, she’ll stop them,” Pete said.

Patrick nodded, but didn’t move from Pete’s arms.

“It’s gonna be okay, I swear,” Pete said.

He dedicated the rest of the evening (he assumed it was evening, but he couldn’t tell) trying to make Patrick feel better. They talked music, mostly, because it was a bottomless topic of conversation for both of them, but they also took turns regaling each other with high school horror stories. A couple of hours after a dinner arrived, Patrick turned to Pete with a small grin on his face.

“How are you doing?” Patrick asked. Pete looked back, confused.

“Fine?” Pete said, and the smile grew on Patrick’s face. “Okay, what?”

“Nothing,” Patrick said. Lying. Pete was confused, slowly drifting off to sleep. The lights were off and he was nearly asleep when he rolled over to face Patrick’s bed.

“You’re not scared,” he said, like a statement, though it was a question.

“I’m terrified,” Patrick mumbled, sleep sticky. “More for you.”

“You wanted to cheer me up?” Pete asked, a tiny smile growing on his face in the dark as well.

“Deception and lying aren’t the same thing, right?” Patrick said, sounding proud. “Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Pete said. His chest felt warm as he fell asleep.

***

As soon as he had permission, Pete was jogging ahead of the nurse to the hospital room. He threw the door open to see not, as he had imagined, Patrick lying still and lifeless, skin still waxy and paper white, but Patrick sitting mostly up, eating spoonfuls of green jello and watching the news. His cheeks already looked fuller, and when he saw the door open, his face broke into a wide grin.

“Pete!” he said, shoving the jello cup onto the side table. “You’re okay!”

At these words, Pete fell onto the wall, overcome with a fit of laughter.

“What, asshole?” Patrick asked, still grinning.

“You’re hooked up to an IV,” Pete choked out, “You almost died, you’ve been unconscious for hours and hours and hours, but you’re worried about me?”

Patrick blushed, and Pete could have sworn it was the best color he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’m always worried about you, dick,” Patrick said, still grinning. Pete got closer, putting a hand on Patrick’s arm, and wincing when he noticed it was still freezing cold. Patrick looked apologetic, but grabbed Pete’s hand when Pete drew back, pulling him closer.

“What? Still cold?” Pete asked, and Patrick, still blushing, nodded. Pete hadn’t expected that answer, but he straightened up a bit.

“Move over,” he demanded, and Patrick complied, shifting over in the hospital bed. Pete crawled in with him, and Patrick sighed, melting into Pete’s side.

“You’re fucking frozen,” Pete laughed, and Patrick nodded.

“Got a lot of refrigerated blood pumping through me,” he said. “The doctor I’ve got said he couldn’t believe I didn’t die of, like, cold, if not from bloodloss.” He glanced at Pete, and smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine now, though.”

“Good,” Pete said, “I promised your mom I’d keep you safe. I mean, she was thinking about heroin and not vampires, but same difference, right?”

Patrick didn’t laugh, instead he looked horrified.

“Oh god, my mom!” he yelped. “You didn’t call her!”

“Of course I called her!” Pete said. The phone call had been traumatizing. _‘Hi Mrs. Stump, your son is inches from death, can you tell me his insurance provider?’_ “But she was out of town. She’s on her way back right now.”

“I don’t want to worry her,” Patrick said.

“You were dying!” Pete yelled, exasperated. Patrick shrugged.

“I’m okay now,” he said, leaning into Pete.

“Yeah,” Pete sighed. He leaned in too, and for the first time in days, finally felt tired enough to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of a bigger chapter, but things are so crazy prepping for college and death in the family and loads of personal drama- next full chapter coming soon!


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